A Tale for Tomorrow

harassment they still remembered, the dominating and constantly eroding passage of time, now dissipating, left room for different rhythms, for depths and alternances, breaches of perception and joining through which space and time seemed to fuse or bond and, when one succeeded in remaining very silent in one‟s head, to becoming something else, as if a single element or a single milieu and, in this milieu, a well-anchored gesture, a gesture rising from the heart, could be creative, or revealing of a reality infinitely rich and present. Even the corporeal rhythms seemed to be relieved of a weight of anxiety, to be rid of an external yoke and to attune to a less circumscribed, wider whole. Often, towards evening, one would bring back from one‟s treks or one‟s contemplations a dry root in the shape of a bird, a garland of half- opened pods, disclosing their crimson seeds, or a drawing on a fragment of bark, some sign of one‟s adventures which one would pin on a wall of the common room, and eventually they even had to arrange some shelves and a few rods to accommodate all of their finds. None of their respective, personal experiences of the world was cancelled, but they did feel as if distanced from whatever they had learnt or understood of it; an altogether other kind of apprenticeship and comprehension were now offered to them and they observed, each with a sort of gratitude and much bafflement, that, thus gathered and assembled, of different ages, kind, colour and background, yet conscious of the same awakening, they may well represent the place,

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